Not a red rose or a satin heart
by leafyaki
Summary: His king weaves a story and he can only watch. A tale of four conversations between Ja'far and Sinbad about Judal. Slight Ja'far/Sinbad, Judal/Sinbad.


**Title**: Not a red rose or a satin heart  
**Summary**: His king weaves a story and he can only watch. A tale of conversations between Ja'far and Sinbad about Judal.  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Ja'far, Judal, Sinbad. Ja'far/Sinbad, Judal/Sinbad can be read into it.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic_ or Carol Ann Duffy's "Valentine".**  
Warnings**: Spoilers for manga up to Second Sindria Arc and The Adventures of Sinbad. Slight gore/violence (for war scenes).  
**Notes**: Written for the Magi Secret Valentine Tumblr Exchange.

_._

_01. I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper._

Ja'far scowls. He has been told plenty of times by Sinbad that a scowl is unattractive on him, but he cannot care less about that now.

"Who is that man?" He hisses between gritted teeth. He holds a hand against his side where, in his carelessness, he had allowed that man's ice shard to pierce him. The blood trickles between his fingers, warm and sticky. Ja'far casts an eye over Sinbad and decides there is no visible injury serious enough to deal with.

"Oh, it's Ja'far's first time seeing him," Hinahoho says in a low rumble. "That's Judal. He's the Kou Empire's Magi."

Ja'far's frown deepens. "And what does he want with you, Sin?"

_Did you do anything to him_, would be Ja'far's second question. Except that the open exasperation on Sinbad's face stops him from asking it.

"He's been after me for a while. After I started to conquer dungeons. His dungeons, to be sure."

Ja'far's confusion must have shown on his face. "Why would conquering his dungeons make him pursue you?"

Before Sinbad can answer Hinahoho says, "He likes Sinbad, that's why."

"No, he does not," Sinbad says. "He just doesn't like that I did it without his help."

"He likes strong people, so he likes Sinbad," Hinahoho adds. He takes out a roll of bandage and tries to coax Ja'far's hand away from his wound. "Let's get a look at that."

"I'm fine," Ja'far insists. Hinahoho moves his hand away anyway.

His blood had left some stains on the ground. Ja'far's feels his face flush with embarrassment when he realizes he is the only one with a blood wound.

"Ah, don't worry about that," Sinbad assures him. "Hinahoho and I just know him better. After a while he's kind of predictable when it comes to attacking."

"He got ice burns in very uncomfortable places until I taught him how to see through the attacks. You should have seen how he slipped on the ice," Hinahoho says in what might have been a conspiratorial whisper, if Sinbad isn't sitting right in front of them.

"Hey!" Sinbad protests, before he realizes there is nothing he can argue against. He grumbles a little and leans back against the wall of the alley.

Part of Ja'far wants to know what Hinahoho means by uncomfortable places. Sinbad catches Ja'far's stare, misinterprets it, and grins. "Well, don't worry too much about Judal for now. It's…kind of a long story."

Ja'far's eyes narrows. "What kind of long story?"

Sinbad doesn't quite smile when he says, "A very long one."

Hinahoho presses a wad of cloth onto his wound, and Ja'far lets the topic drop for now as he focuses on his breathing. He promises himself, _Next time, next time I'll pry the story out of you_.

_.._

_02. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief._

They have won, but this is the cost.

Ja'far walks through what had once been the clean, shop-lined street of Sindria. His nose is already numb to the smell of burnt flesh. He focuses on his steps and stares straight ahead – the smoky air is far preferable to the sight of burning corpses on the ground. But when he stumbles over a cracked barrel he has to crouch and take a while to catch his breath and balance.

Masrur is by his side, a silent, stoic presence. After Ja'far can breathe again, he rests an arm over Masrur's shoulders and nods. They move forward at a slow, steady pace. There is hardly any need to stop, when there are more dead and fatally injured people than those who could be saved.

The streets seem far longer than they actually are. Several times they have to step around obstacles, and Ja'far does not want to look at what they are stepping around. Masrur's nose is as keen as ever and he tracks Sinbad's scent amidst the heavy smell of death. Ja'far has been an assassin since he is a child, but even then he had not been witness to such destruction. He forces the bile down and moves on, one step at a time.

And when they finally reach Sinbad, they find him cradling the body of a woman. Ja'far takes a while to recognize her. Her features are badly burnt, but she was one of the palace's serving ladies who had taken a fondness for Sinbad. She had never hidden her feelings for him. And in death she didn't hide her pain either – her mouth is open and fixed in an agonized scream.

Ja'far stands by, silent, until his legs tremble and he knows he can no longer support himself, with or without Masrur's help. He eases off Masrur's shoulder and slumps down beside Sinbad. His clothes are already blackened by dirt and ash, soaked with blood, and a little more wouldn't hurt.

"Sin," he says.

Sinbad's face is caked with dried blood. Ja'far reaches up to touch his shoulder, smearing more ash on the cloth. Sinbad doesn't flinch or respond in any way.

"Sin," Masrur says as well, standing on Sinbad's other side.

Sinbad continues staring down at the corpse for a long time. Slowly, as the city burns around them, he lowers her body to the ground. His hands are red, and bits of flaky, dry skin had stuck to him.

When Sinbad looks up, Ja'far cannot find any light in his eyes. Sinbad is looking ahead, where the only thing that awaited him are more streets and more bodies. Far off, Ja'far thinks he hears the wails and cries of those who are still alive. Ja'far grasps Sinbad's shoulder tightly, and hates himself for what he is about to say next.

"The people need you, Sin."

Sinbad's shoulders jerk. His mouth opens, but he doesn't say anything. Ja'far wonders if he is about to cry or laugh, and he tries to tighten his trembling fingers.

Sinbad does neither. He closes his mouth and stands up. Ja'far's fingers slide off and he fumbles for a hold, anything, anywhere would do, and he finally manages to grasp at Sinbad's hand.

"Please, Sin," he says. He does not like the look in Sinbad's eyes, nor the way Sinbad is standing. He is not the man who had saved Ja'far and so many others. "Please."

When Sinbad slips his hand out and walks away Ja'far wonders if the man he had known would ever come back. This whole battle had nothing to do with Judal, or with the Kou Empire, but already Ja'far can hear Judal's voice in his head, delighted and mocking,

_So you've finally come around, eh, idiot King?_

He fears that if he stands up he will only fall, together with Sinbad, into depravity.

_..._

_03. Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips, possessive and faithful._

Ja'far wonders where the point when fascination turns into obsession is, and when that had happened for Judal.

"This has got to stop," he mutters, so low only Sinbad can hear him. He doubts anyone will overhear them anyway. He tugs on the bandages and knots it off, using his knives as a makeshift scissors to cut away the excess cloth.

Sinbad lifts his palm and Ja'far grabs it, surveying the wound. The bleeding has stopped, though it will take a while, even with Sinbad's superhuman magoi, to recover. He cleans the dirt from it and ignores Sinbad's wince.

For a while Sinbad thinks to feign ignorance. Then he sees the crease between Ja'far's brows and the tight way he holds his shoulders. Sinbad sighs and says, "I know."

"You always say that. But whenever he appears you still go easy on him," Ja'far says, pulling tight on the bandages. This time Sinbad does give a small yelp of pain. It is drowned by the noise all around them as the injured are tended to. The air is heavy with the smell of antiseptic and blood, and with the clouds cleared the extent of destruction can be starkly seen. Ja'far keeps his focus on Sinbad's hand and ties the bandage. "Flex. Just a little."

Sinbad curls his fingers in as instructed. Ja'far nods when the bandage gives just enough.

"Thanks, Ja'far," Sinbad says.

"You haven't answered me," Ja'far reminds him.

Sinbad hasn't been aware that there was a question to begin with. But then again everything to do with Judal is apparently a question. "I hadn't expected him to be here."

Ja'far refrains from saying that Judal tends to appear wherever Sinbad happened to be. "It's not about what you expect. You know what he's like."

Annoying, destructive, clingy, are all some choice words Ja'far would like to say. Sinbad only says, "He's…persistent, to be sure."

Though he didn't used to be so obsessed, Ja'far thinks with a frown. For a long time, even before Sinbad became Sindria's King, Judal had been a thorn in their sides. But after that war in Sindria and Sinbad's brush with depravity –

Ja'far clenches his fists, hiding them in his sleeves. "And he will be _persistent_ for a long while yet."

Sinbad glances at Ja'far for a while then looks back in front of him. Ja'far thinks perhaps Sinbad is recalling Sindria from years ago. "You know, as well as I do, that Judal cannot be touched."

"Because he is from the Kou Empire?"

Sinbad smiles slightly. "There's that. And he is also a Magi."

"Who has ties with Al-Sarmen," Ja'far points out.

"Aye," Sinbad says without any change in tone.

It is a soft spot Ja'far resents.

Sinbad continues, "Judal is merely a branch of Al-Sarmen. The root of the problem lies elsewhere."

Ja'far does not point out that Isnan, too, is like a branch in Sinbad's logic. Only that Sinbad felt the need to destroy this particular branch and not the other. Ja'far sighs. He hopes Sinbad can hear all his frustration in that one breath.

Sinbad takes a sidelong glance at him before he stands up and says, "Let's go see who else needs help."

Ja'far is well acquainted enough to know when Sinbad wants to close a topic. And it seems that whenever it comes to Judal, Ja'far is forced to drop the argument.

_..._

_04. Its scent will cling to your fingers, cling to your knife._

"What happened when you first met Judal?"

Sinbad doesn't visibly react when Ja'far asks the question, and Ja'far knows then that this is part of the "long story" Sinbad had refused to tell him about a long time ago.

Sinbad lowers his cup of water. "How are your wounds?" he asks.

"You're getting more and more transparent in changing the topic," Ja'far says.

Sinbad chuckles and it sounds hollow to Ja'far's ears. "Nay, this is relevant."

"They're fine. Hardly a scratch," Ja'far says dismissively.

"You're the only person who would call being thrown into a wall hardly a scratch."

Ja'far doesn't say anything. He stares into Sinbad's eyes until Sinbad pushes his chair back and stands up. "If you're fine, take a walk with me, Ja'far."

Ja'far pauses for a beat before he bows and says, "As you wish."

Sinbad leads the way out of the office. Along the corridor they can feel the afternoon heat more acutely, and there is a hush that makes it seem like nothing had ever happened earlier in the day. The palace residents must be taking a break from the heat.

Sinbad climbs the next flight of stairs that go up in a wide spiral. When they emerge onto the platform they are at the highest point of the palace, on a balcony overlooking the entire country. Sinbad leans at the railing and beckons Ja'far forward to stand beside him. Ja'far carefully keeps out of the direct sun rays and joins Sinbad in looking out over the country.

Sinbad's smile is gentle when he says, "It's a beautiful country, isn't it?"

Ja'far nods and says, "Yes."

Sinbad crosses his arms over the railing. He takes a deep breath and says, "Do you remember what Judal and Al-Sarmen did to Partevia, Ja'far?"

"How could I forget?" Ja'far says. He cannot feel fondness for the place, but he does remember everything with the neutrality of a historian recording places and people. Partevia had already become corrupt to the core when he had been recruited to find and kill Sinbad, but when Judal had gotten involved – that had been the first time he had seen Sinbad truly enraged.

Sinbad sighs. "How could we, indeed?"

He taps his fingers against the railing. The metal vessels on his arms catch the light and glitters. It hurts Ja'far's eyes to look at them – he focuses on Sinbad's fingers tapping a rhythm. It distracts him, and he reaches out to place a hand over them.

Sinbad's fingers still and he smiles. "Sorry, my bad."

Ja'far shakes his head. "How did it start?"

"Start…this thing with Judal, huh?"

Ja'far removes his hand, which is as good a signal for Sinbad to begin.

Sinbad takes a while, searching for where to begin, before he takes a deep breath and says, "Judal…hadn't always been so war-hungry. At least, I don't think he ever cared about what Al-Sarmen said or did. I met him after I conquered my second dungeon and obtained Focalor. Judal raised that dungeon."

Though he never sounds happy when it comes to Judal, Ja'far knows there is some part of him that takes fondness in this reminiscence. He can see it in Sinbad's eyes as he looks out over their island.

Ja'far stays quiet. Sinbad is lost in his past and there is no space for him there.

"And it's like what Hinahoho told you, I suppose. He found me, he wanted to test my strength, so we fought. He loved fighting – possibly he loved anything that was exciting. He was dangerous though, and very powerful…and he's become even more so now."

Ja'far hates to admit that Judal is indeed powerful. He pulls at the string around his arms and feels it cut into his skin, just a little too tight to be comfortable. It stings from the afternoon, from the power he had been prevented from releasing.

Sinbad hums and says, "I barely got out of the fight – kind of escaped, actually. And he couldn't find me, so he left with a vow to find me again. And…you know how that goes. He's been chasing me ever since. I was strong enough to conquer his dungeons without needing his help, and that made him want…"

_Your power? You? Or simply the thrill of chasing you?_ Ja'far wonders which it is, but Sinbad never finishes that train of thought.

"If he was really acting as only the Kou Empire's Magi, or under Al-Sarmen's orders, he wouldn't be here all the time. I don't think he even knows what he's doing with them," Sinbad says. He ends it like he's asking a question, but Ja'far has no answer either.

"You could have been his King candidate," Ja'far says. He says it like it's a fact, like a scientist analyzing a chemical result.

"Perhaps. But I didn't want to be. Not with Al-Sarmen's power," Sinbad says in a low, hard tone.

Ja'far wonders what it would have been like if Aladdin had been born earlier, if Sinbad had met him before Alibaba did, if he had become the Chosen One, guided by Solomon's Wisdom. Would Sinbad be harder against Judal, be less hesitant?

"Do you pity him?"

The silence he receives is far more telling than any answer. Ja'far is not blind. He had seen how Sinbad had reached out on instinct, almost like he was relieved, when Judal had pretended to cry over his history. Ja'far had never hated Judal so much as he did then. He hadn't been aware he could feel so much anger toward a single person.

Sinbad curls his fingers over the railing. "I did," he finally says.

"You do," Ja'far corrects. "You still do."

_And you want to use him as your pawn, too. Though I do not know how,_ Ja'far thinks.

Sinbad looks at Ja'far and smiles. "Perhaps it is as you say, Ja'far. You're as sharp as ever."

"Somebody has to be," Ja'far says.

Sinbad shakes his head and chuckles. "There is nothing much more to the story. Drakon, Hinahoho, then you…we've all met him since then, and he is as persistent as he was when I first met him."

"That's not much of a long story," Ja'far says with some exasperation. He consciously relaxes his hold on the strings when Sinbad doesn't take his gaze off him.

"Oh, but it is. More than you can imagine," Sinbad says with the air of a storyteller leaving the message for the audience to figure out.

"And you're not telling me more?"

Sinbad grins. Something mischievous dances in his eyes as he says, "Stories are best told in bits and pieces, over a long period of time. And this story hasn't ended yet. Wouldn't you agree, dear Ja'far?"

Ja'far smiles then, a faint upward twist of his lips. If he could bring himself to laugh he might have. He thinks of the storytellers Sinbad had brought him to, those puppet theatres where the stories all ended happily ever after.

Only this is no puppet theatre, and Ja'far can only fathom the impossible ending Sinbad has in mind, the happy ending his King wishes for, the salvation of the fallen. "May this one have a happy ending, then," he murmurs as he closes his eyes against the bright sunlight.

_If only for your sake,_ Ja'far thinks, and he hopes his sorrow for Sinbad does not show on his face.


End file.
